


Yet Different

by toxic_corn



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crack, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 05:29:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9307481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxic_corn/pseuds/toxic_corn
Summary: A bit of a time crash and the Doctor finds himself with a new companion.  We find Nine after "Boom Town" and Martha after "Human Nature"/"Family of Blood."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As requested by [](http://fairandbright.livejournal.com/profile)[fairandbright](http://fairandbright.livejournal.com/) for Christmas. Merry Christmas!

From the monitor, the Doctor watched Rose rush out after the temporarily-forgotten Mickey. He kept his face an expressionless mask, all too aware of Captain Jack Harkness’s presence.

 

“Kind of an unconventional way of refueling, huh?” Jack commented in a too-loud, overly casual tone. “Rift opening and nearly swallowing Cardiff. Never a dull moment.” He started to poke the egg that had been Margaret the Slitheen but seemed to think better of it and let his hand drop to his side. “I can’t say as I’m looking forward to the next adventure returning this thing.”

 

“I think I should take the TARDIS on a test run,” the Doctor said abruptly.

 

Jack nodded his agreement. “Sounds wise. You don’t know how she’ll run after the console opened up.”

 

The Doctor gave him a significant look and Jack blinked. “Oh. This is a solo mission, then?” He grabbed his jacket and slipped it on. “Maybe a fish and chip shop will still be open out there in the chaotic aftermath. See you later.”

 

The Doctor waited for the door to close after his companion and then flipped a switch.

 

~*~

 

Martha took off her artificial poppy and slipped it into her pocket as the Doctor chattered on incessantly. She was still feeling a bit somber after the Remembrance Day commemoration they’d witnessed and couldn’t fully attend to what he was saying.

 

“Where to next? You know, Japan during the Tokugawa period was brilliant. They still had samurai, you know. I haven’t been there in awhile; it could be fun. What do you say? Martha? …Martha?”

 

“Oh.” She shook herself. “Er, Japan. I’ve always wanted to go there. Just let me change first and-” But he was already fiddling with the controls and she sighed, shaking her head. He always heard her but he never seemed to _listen_.

 

“You sure know how to pick them, Martha Jones,” she muttered on her way out of the room.

 

~*~

 

The Doctor hadn’t gotten far when the alarm sounded that something was very wrong with the TARDIS. Surprised, he looked all around the console and started trying to fix the problem, murmuring words of comfort to his ship. Parking break wasn’t on, the navigation was fine, shields were up- No. Wait.

 

Gritting his teeth, he flipped the necessary switch. Hopefully any damage done would be _minor_. No shields. One would think he hadn’t been operating a TARDIS for hundreds of years, making a daft mistake like that!

 

“Doctor?” That wasn’t Rose; he’d seen her run off to Mickey the Idiot with his own eyes. “I don’t really have anything appropriate for the Tokugawa period but if I can wear jeans to meet Shakespeare, then the samurai don’t deserve any special treatment eith-” A striking girl with dark skin strode into the room adjusting the cuffs of a red leather jacket but she froze when she saw him. “Wh- how did you get in here? Where’s the Doctor?!”

 

The Doctor sighed and looked up at the console tubing with a hint of betrayal. “Oh, fantastic.”

 

~*~

 

Martha looked around the room in alarm. They couldn’t have picked up a passenger already, could they? They were supposed to be in Japan and this bloke didn’t look Tokugawa. Unless leather and big ears were in and somehow she didn’t think so.

 

“Who are you?” she demanded. “Have you hurt him? Where is he?”

 

“I’m the Doctor,” the man said matter of factly.

 

“Right, and I’m Kylie Minogue!”

 

The man grinned at her stupidly. “Pleasure, Kylie. Let me guess: You were traveling with a Doctor who looks completely different from myself. Was he… ginger?” he added hopefully.

 

Martha stared at him. “No. Brown hair.” Why was she indulging this lunacy? Why wasn’t she running around trying to find out whatever this daffy stranger did to the Doctor? Perhaps because he felt familiar in a strange way. “Are you a Time Lord, too?” When his grin faded and the light died in his eyes she quickly added, “Of course you’re not. They were all killed off in the Time War. That’s what the Doctor told me anyway. But, but the Face of Boe said-”

 

“Don’t tell me!” The man held up his hands. “This is bad enough without you telling me what the future holds.”

 

“Sorry?” Martha glanced at the console and saw a disgusting little egg with things growing from it. “Where did that come from?”

 

“Haven’t you worked out what’s happened?” the man asked, ignoring her question.

 

She sighed. “You have to be the Doctor if you’re treating me like I’m simple.” She rubbed her forehead. “So what’s happened, then?”

 

The man - the Doctor, if she were to believe his story - frowned in worry. “Am I really all that bad? My future self?”

 

“Future self?” Martha bit her lip and felt guilty. “I wouldn’t say _bad_ exactly. I mean, I like you. You can be a bit tiring and exasperating at times but-”

 

“Good to know nothing changes much, then,” he said cheerfully. “Well then, Kylie, I-”

 

“I was joking about that,” Martha interrupted. “My name isn’t Kylie.”

 

“I know. I just didn’t know what else to call you.” He gave her a warm smile that she found herself returning, even though she still wasn’t really sure who this man was and how he could possibly be the Doctor.

 

“My name’s Martha. Martha Jones.”

 

“Well, Martha Jones, I’m glad that during the momentary temporal collision, you were the one to fall through the hole in the universe and not your Doctor. The paradox would’ve destroyed the universe.” He glanced at her and then flipped a few more switches. “So where do you belong then, Martha? I’ll drop you off and your Doctor will know where to pick you up.”

 

“How will he know that?” Martha managed, still trying to work through his whole speech.

 

He gave her a surprised look. “Are we still on that? He’ll _remember_. Because he’s _me_."

 

For a crazy moment, Martha thought that she might faint. She almost wished that she would because she’d never fainted before in her life and it would make a perfect rejoinder to his shocking statement. However, she settled for sitting down and taking a deep breath.

 

“Start over,” Martha said, collecting her strength. She met his gaze and said firmly, “Pretend I know nothing about Time Lords and explain everything. Right now.”

 

To her surprise, the man smiled widely, eyes crinkling. “I’m beginning to see why I chose you, Martha Jones.”


	2. Chapter 2

“All right,” Martha said once she felt she had everything straight. “Time Lords have regenerative properties.”

 

The Doctor nodded. “Yes.”

 

“So you _are_ the Doctor, and not some mental patient who broke in here.”

 

“I can be a bit mental but I’m not a mental _patient_ , no.” He looked as if he were enjoying all this entirely too much.

 

“And since you don’t recognize me, you’re most likely an earlier incarnation.” Martha sighed. “Right. If I can get used to blue boxes bigger on the inside which can travel through space and time, I can get used to this.”

 

“Glad to hear it.” The Doctor turned a few knobs and looked at her expectantly. “So where can I leave you?”

 

Martha watched him sadly. “That’s it, then?”

 

“What’s what, then?”

 

“Dropping me off so soon.” He did have a habit of wanting to be rid of her; when she’d first come on board the TARDIS he’d insisted she’d get _one_ trip only and then in 1913 with the Family hunting them, when he’d nearly gone off and married Joan Redfern. Why did he keep her along if she was some tag-along puppy?

 

“Well, I’m going to be worried about you if I can’t find you on the TARDIS. But I’ll remember leaving you at your home and I’ll go retrieve you, simple as that.”

 

“I’m not so sure about that,” she muttered.

 

“What was that?” The Doctor narrowed his eyes. “I don’t just abandon my companions, you know.”

 

Feeling slightly shamed, Martha looked down at her feet and then back up at him. “I know. You’ve kept me very safe, all things considered. It’s just… I’m second choice to who you’d rather be traveling with. I’m afraid I’m a bit of a disappointment.”

 

“You?” He looked stunned. “Clever girl like you? There’s no way. You must be misreading signals or something.”

 

“I wish.”

 

Discomfited, the Doctor gestured to the controls. “Well, here. Either I drop you off home or you can go on a little trip with me first. I have to deliver this egg to Raxacoricofallapatorius.”

 

“Really?” Martha’s face lit up. “You’d be all right with that? Traveling with me?”

 

“Before taking you back to where your Doctor can find you? Yes, I’d be all right. Why wouldn’t I?”

 

She grinned and waved her hand dismissively. “No reason. Let’s go!”

 

He grinned back at her and set the controls. “To Raxacoricofallapatorious!”

 

In no time at all, they arrived at their destination and the Doctor, continuing to grin wildly, picked up the egg. “We have to find a good home for this egg. The Slitheen this grew up to be was a murdering criminal and she said if she’d had the proper upbringing, she never would have entered into a life of crime. Let’s go see what wins, nature or nurture.”

 

“That’s actually an antiquated argument,” Martha informed him. “Scientific evidence supports the idea that a combination of the two is what makes us who we are.”

 

Her response seemed to please him and he held the door open for her. “After you, Martha Jones. I’ll be sure to check all the facts before voicing anymore antiquated notions.”

 

“Oh! I didn’t mean to-”

 

“I know,” he said gently.

 

Unnerved by the warm smile on his face, Martha went out the door and looked around at the bustling futuristic city that resembled New New York a bit. The Doctor followed after her and closed the TARDIS door, the Slitheen egg under his arm.

 

“So how are we going to go about this?” Martha asked. “Try to find an orphanage or- oh my!” She hopped back in alarm when one of the natives approached them, an eight foot creature with long, killing claws and a disturbing baby-like face with black, pupil-less eyes.

 

“What’s this?” the creature demanded. “Off worlders with one of our unborn? Explain yourselves!”

 

“We were asked to take this unborn to the hatcheries,” The Doctor said, holding the egg up. “We don’t want any trouble.”

 

“No trouble?” the creature repeated and blinked in such a disturbing way that Martha inched back another step. “You’re an _off-worlder_ with one of our _unborn_. You’re with the black market egg trade, aren’t you?!”

 

“No, I’m not,” the Doctor said firmly. “If you’ll listen, I’ll tell you. See, the Slitheen-”

 

“The Slitheen?!” the creature nearly roared and a few passers by drew up short and came over to their group, obviously upset. “I’ve heard enough! I’m arresting you in the name of Parliament!”

 

The Doctor looked around frantically to see if they could make a run for it but the creatures, the Raxacorocofallapatorians, had them surrounded. The egg was snatched out of his hands and the aliens grabbed hold of him and Martha.

 

“The penalty for black market egg trading is death,” the Raxacorocofallapatorian said smugly. “The method of that death will be mandated by the court of your cellmates if they find out what you’re in for.”

 

One of the Raxacorofallapatorians were so enraged that it lashed out with one of its fists and knocked the Doctor in the head, rendering him unconscious. 

 

“To the jail!” the lead alien called.

 

“TO THE JAIL!” The others took up the shout.

 

Martha squeaked in fear as she was hefted upwards and carried away. She sent a horrified look towards the Doctor’s limp frame carried alongside her and hoped that he’d be awake soon to get them out of this mess…


	3. Chapter 3

The Raxacoricofallapatorians were fast, so Martha didn’t really get a chance to see her surroundings as she was rushed through the front doors of the jail. She’d seen police dramas on telly before and she’d been expecting to be processed but instead, the shouting aliens carried her to where the cells were and unceremoniously dumped her inside.

 

“Let’s get this back to the hatchery,” she heard one of the creatures say as they left her alone.

 

Shaken, Martha sat up and took stock of her surroundings. It looked like any other jail cell she’d seen in films, only everything was absurdly large, to better accommodate the locals’ size. The doors weren’t the traditional bars, but doors that had slid open and shut when she’d been tossed in, with a little barred window in the middle. And of course everything was filthy. She quickly got to her feet and started wiping dust and dirt off of her jeans and her favorite leather coat. 

 

All in all, she supposed it could’ve been worse. She had the cell to herself and the ceiling was high, though it probably would’ve made the Raxacoricofallapatorians claustrophobic. Freezing in mid dusting of her shoulders, Martha gasped.

 

Cell to herself.

 

The Doctor was alone, unconscious. Or worse, with a cellmate who wouldn’t take kindly to an off-worlder “kidnapping” an egg. Martha felt tears sting her eyes at the thought. The universe needed the Doctor. _She_ needed the Doctor. Besides, this would really muck up the timeline if he died now; he had to go on and regenerate into the annoyingly handsome, stand-offish man she would come to know and… love.

 

That wasn’t all that was going on here. She rather liked this older incarnation of the Doctor. His ears were a bit silly, but he was a lot warmer than she was used to. He smiled a lot more, that was for certain. It was such a silly smile, almost as silly as his ears. Through her tears, Martha smiled. No matter what stage of life he was in, there was no doubt always something appealing about the Doctor. 

 

Unsure of what else to do, Martha crossed over to the big bed and sank on top of it. It was more comfortable than any jail-cell bed had any business being, and she curled up on top of the scratchy blanket to avoid the soiled looking sheets. Overwhelmed by the strangeness of the day, Martha fell asleep.

~*~

“Martha! Martha Jones!”

 

Jerking awake, Martha took a moment to realize that that was the Doctor speaking. He was alive! She scrambled up and ran to the little window, projecting her voice out so he could hear it.

 

“Doctor? You’re all right?”

 

“I’m fine.” He sounded relieved to finally get a response and Martha briefly wondered how long he’d been calling. “What about you? Do you have a cellmate?”

 

“No, I’m alone!”

 

“Good for you,” a strange voice interrupted, sounding surly.

 

“Oi, you,” the Doctor said sharply. “This isn’t your conversation.”

 

“He can’t help overhearing it,” another voice cut in. “You’re shouting loud enough, I wouldn’t be surprised if the guards heard you outside.”

 

The Doctor was quiet and Martha started to worry that he’d taken their words to heart, rather hearts seeing as he had two, and wouldn’t speak to her any more.

 

“Chin up, Martha,” he finally, said, breaking his silence. 

 

She frowned. “Chin up? That’s all you can say? We’re in a jail and we’re going to be killed!” He didn’t answer. “Doctor!” Still not getting a response, she slapped the door in frustration. On second thought, this Doctor wasn’t too different from the one she knew. She crossed back over to the bed and sat down once more. What was she to do now? Twiddle her thumbs until death came?

 

Sulking, she missed the scraping sound in the ceiling for the first few minutes and she didn’t think anything of it, expecting that this planet had its own species of vermin that lived in these centers of misery. It wasn’t until she realized that the sound was coming closer that she really took notice. It sounded like a scraping and a dragging and it started to worry her. She even considered running to the door and shouting for the Doctor, but what good would that do? He was just as trapped as she was.

 

Just above her head, the scraping sound grew in intensity and a low groaning started to accompany it. Heart in her throat, Martha shrank back against the wall and looked around the cell in a fruitless search for a weapon. Nothing. 

 

The scraping sound ceased but the groaning grew louder. She noticed one of the ceiling tiles jiggling and she looked to the door. Should she shout for help? Would any come? Or was this part of the execution; lock up the criminal, terrify them, and then send in something horrible to finish them off? 

 

Just as she was starting to get up, the tile moved aside and a large, green face with big, inky dark eyes stared down at her in seeming malevolence. Screaming, she ran to the door. “Help! Someone please! Help!”

 

“Martha, it’s all right!”

 

She looked back and stared in befuddlement as the Doctor’s face appeared next to that of the Raxacoricofallapatorian. “This is my cellmate, Toran.”

 

“Hello,” Toran said as if they were meeting at a party.

 

“What are you...?”

 

“I told you chin up.” The Doctor grinned. “Toran’s going to reach down and pull you up, all right? His arms are long but I don’t think it’ll quite reach you. You’ll need to stand on the bed.”

 

Martha blinked and then moved quickly to the bed, climbing up on it. Toran reached down a clawed hand and Martha suspected that the scraping sound had been those very clawed hands dragging along the overhead passage as they crawled. She hesitated.

 

“It’s all right,” the Doctor repeated. “He won’t hurt you.”

 

She met the Doctor’s gaze and saw he was 100% confident of the fact. Nodding trustingly, Martha took Toran’s offered hand and was quickly pulled up in the air shaft with them.

 

“Hello,” the Doctor said cheerfully.

 

Without thinking, Martha threw her arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”

 

The Doctor returned the hug and gently patted her back. “So am I.” He pulled back slightly but didn’t quite break the hug, so he could look into Martha’s eyes. “Toran reckons he knows the way out of here. We’ll follow his lead.”

 

“And we can trust him?” she glanced worriedly over at the Raxacoricofallapatorian who was watching them in interest.

 

“Yes,” the Doctor said firmly. “I promise you we’ll get out of here safely, Martha Jones.” His hand slid up to the middle of her back and rested there, gently caressing.

 

The hug had felt familiar until this development. Cautiously, she lifted her hand from his shoulder and cupped his cheek, watching in wonder as a warm smile bloomed across his face.

 

“We must move before the guards realize we’re gone,” Toran said, breaking the spell. The Doctor released his hold on Martha and she looked away, embarrassed.

 

“Right then,” the Doctor said and nodded at Toran. “Lead on, MacDuff.”

 

“It’s actually ‘Lay on, MacDuff,” Martha said.

 

The Doctor threw her an amused grin. “Shakespeare expert, are you?”

 

“Kind of met him,” she returned crisply but her eyes sparkled as his grin widened.

 

“I don’t think Toran knew the difference anyway.” He looked away and saw that their guide was already quite far ahead. “Better get crawling or he’ll reach freedom without us.”

 

“Can’t have that,” Martha agreed and waited for the Doctor to start crawling. She tried to be proper at first and _not_ stare at his bum, but seeing as how it was right in her face, she may as well look all she pleased.

 

Pinching it would be right out. Of course. Because it wasn’t really necessary to check and see if it was as firm as it looked. 

 

_You really need a date, Martha Jones._ If they made it out of this alive, that would be the first thing she’d do.


	4. Chapter 4

The view of the Doctor’s bum, while enticing after the first forty five minutes, was now starting to weary Martha. They’d been crawling through these tunnels for hours; she was covered in dust, her palm had been scratched and no doubt infected with filth, and she wished she was in Japan with her Doctor.

 

“Do you see anything yet, Toran?” the Doctor asked for the fifth time, sounding every bit as weary as she felt.

 

“As I’ve told you before _no_. Wait. Yes.” Their guide stopped. “We’ll need your screwdriver again.”

 

“Again?” Martha repeated.

 

The Doctor sent her an amused look over his shoulder. “Come now. You think escaping a prison on Raxicoricofallapatorious is as simple as moving aside a ceiling tile? We needed help. _Sonic_ help.”

 

He looked so pleased with himself, Martha had to laugh. “You’re mad.”

 

Grinning, he waggled his eyebrows up and down and then turned to face front again, reaching into his pocket and giving his screwdriver to Toran. “You’ll need to hold this button down and apply it directly to the screws.”

 

“Right.” The sound of the screwdriver doing its work bounced off the metal passage around them, making Martha wince but then there was a clattering sound and the screwdriver was switched off. “Here we go, then. On the roof.”

 

“The roof?” Martha frowned, wondering how they were going to get down. Did Raxacoricofallapatorians build fire escapes?

 

“Don’t worry,” the Doctor said cheerfully. “There’s a way out of everything. I have yet to be completely trapped.”

 

“There’s a first time for everything,” Toran said.

 

“There is,” Martha agreed. “The law of averages itself says-”

 

“You know, it’s possible to be too clever,” the Doctor cut her off. “And here we go, out of this claustrophobic mess!”

 

They did just a bit more climbing and found themselves in a cramped little room. Martha wasn’t ready to complain; it felt nice to unfold and she rubbed at her back and moved from side to side to get the kinks out. She bent her knees and straightened a few times and when she glance down, she noticed a large fan just beneath them. Luckily, it was off, but Martha stared worriedly at the sharp looking metal blades and hoped no one downstairs felt like a bit of a cool-down and flipped a switch.

 

“I thought we were on the roof,” she said, nervously.

 

The Doctor pointed skywards and Martha looked up at the window there. It looked big enough for Martha and the Doctor to get through but she looked from the window to Toran. “That’s fine for us, but how’s he going to fit? No offense or anything,” she quickly added.

 

“None taken, Martha Jones.” Toran lifted the Doctor up and held him to the window so he could use the screwdriver to open it. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll find a way through.”

 

Soon the Doctor had the window open and was up on the roof. Toran quickly lifted Martha after him and it felt good to be outside, feeling the cool air blowing on her sweaty, dusty face. She closed her eyes a moment and moaned low in her throat at the feeling and then slowly blinked them open once more to see the Doctor watching her with intense interest.

 

“What?” she asked, heart skipping a beat.

 

He seemed to shake off whatever he was feeling and nodded to the window in the ground. “Watch. You’ll want to see this.”

 

Toran’s face appeared in the window along with his two claws. Then he slowly moved upward and outward and Martha’s jaw dropped as Toran’s body seemed to squish inward.

 

“Is he-?” Martha pointed and couldn’t bring herself to complete her thought.

 

“Bit like how a rat makes itself fit through a tiny opening, isn’t it?” The Doctor commented, then looked at Martha, eyes sparkling. 

 

Martha looked back at him and slowly smiled. “Wish I had that ability when I’m clothes shopping.”

 

His gaze traveled up and down her body and she shivered a little. “I bet you manage just fine.” Quickly, he looked back to see how far Toran had progressed. It took Martha an extra moment to get herself together before she could do the same.

 

Toran was most of the way out the window, his body collapsed in on itself so he was about the same width as she or the Doctor. Once he was completely free, he lay on the ground for a bit and his body slowly started to expand again until he was back to his normal state.

 

“All right then, Toran?” The Doctor asked as Toran got to his feet.

 

“I’m fine, Doctor. Now how are we going to get off this roof?”

 

The Doctor looked around, considering this. “Well… hm. No fire escape, I see.” He glanced at Martha and saw the worried expression on her face. “Hey. No situation is impossible, right? I got us out of prison, didn’t I?”

 

“You did,” Martha admitted.

 

“And I’ll get us off this roof, too,” he said, gently. “Just you wait and see.”

 

“ _EMERGENCY LOCKDOWN! EMERGENCY LOCKDOWN! THERE HAS BEEN A LAPSE IN SECURITY! EMERGENCY LOCKDOWN_!”

 

“Well, you’ve waited long enough. Watch.” The Doctor ran to the ledge and looked down. Toran and Martha joined him on either side. “See that waste management vehicle there? We jump and aim for that.”

 

Toran and Martha exchanged startled looks.

 

“And if we miss it?” Toran asked, hesitantly.

 

“Then we die,” the Doctor said simply. He reached out and grasped Martha’s hand. “On three. Ready?”

 

“No!”

 

“One…” he went on as if he hadn’t heard her. “Two…”

 

“ _I’ve found them! They’re on the roof_!”

 

“Three!”

 

Before she could draw a breath to protest or scream the three of them were stepping off the ledge and free-falling.


	5. Chapter 5

As they fell through the air, Martha prayed that the waste management would break their fall. She wasn’t much of a praying woman and was out of practice but prayed she did.

 

But as they fell into the back of the truck and the pungent aroma of the refuse heaped around them filled her nostrils, she wondered if she really should have bothered. 

 

“Everyone all right?” the Doctor asked, voice muffled. To her left, a mountain of rubbish shifted and he popped into view, his daffy grin on his face and a smear of Martha-didn’t-want-to-know-what on his cheek.

 

Toran sat up behind her. “I’m not injured,” he said in a tone that warned no one to ask if he was happy.

 

“Neither am I,” Martha said.

 

The Doctor looked at her in concern for a moment and then nodded. “Good. Neither am I. We should try to get out of here when we can. Toran, how far are we from your safe house?”

 

Toran lurched upright and slogged through the filth to peer over one of the sides of the vehicle. “Not too far. At the next intersection, we should disembark.”

 

“That won’t attract attention, will it?” Martha said, raising her eyebrows. “Two off-worlders and escaped prisoners popping out the back of a lorry?”

 

“You can stay here if you’d like,” the Doctor said and pointed across the way. “I’ll bet that hill of muck would be a fantastic spot for a bungalow.”

 

Martha had to giggle and pointed in the opposite direction. “And a summer home there!”

 

“That’s the idea!” The Doctor chuckled. Even with streaks of filth on his face, Martha wanted to lick him. Well. Maybe after he’d had a wash.

 

The lorry was slowing and the Doctor carefully got to his feet and held out a hand to help Martha up. He didn’t relinquish his hold as they mucked their way over to Toran.

 

“One at a time,” Toran said. The Doctor gently pushed Martha forward and Toran lifted her up to climb over the side. She took a quick look around and saw that not many Raxacoricofallapatorians were out in this neighborhood; she and her fellow escapees just might be able to flee unnoticed.

 

“ _Off worlder_!”

 

Or not.

 

There weren’t any handholds so Martha had to slide down the back of the lorry, squealing in alarm the whole way. She’d have to get control before-

 

Her feet hit the bumper and the sudden stop made her entire body jerk. Before she could so much as say “bugger,” she was falling backward and her bum met the street, hard.

 

From her ungraceful position, she watched the Doctor slide down the back much the same as she had but instead, he slid a little further to the left so he had a grip on the lorry’s side, therefore controlling the speed of his slide. He was able to step off the bumper when he reached it without any problems.

 

“Martha, are you-?” His brow furrowed at seeing her sitting in the road. She quickly jumped up and gritted her teeth as her ass started to twinge in protest.

 

“Fine,” she gritted out. “But I think we’ve been spotted.” 

 

An audience had started to gather and the Doctor looked grim. “I think you’re right.”

 

Toran suddenly leapt out of the back of the vehicle and landed in a neat crouch beside the Doctor. “I take it we’ll be running now?” he asked conversationally.

 

“Excellent bit of deduction,” the Doctor said crisply then saluted the gathered Raxacoricofallapatorians. “Bye!”

 

And the three took to their heels, leaving the crowd completely baffled.

~*~

Their little group jogged through darkened streets and neighborhoods without attracting any attention, much to all of their relief. Martha was starting to get tired but didn’t complain as they continued onward through the night.

 

“Are we getting any closer, Toran?” the Doctor asked, sounding winded.

 

“Not much further,” Toran answered, unbothered.

 

“I didn’t realize… I was so… out of shape,” Martha gasped to the Doctor as they ran.

 

He turned his head and grinned at her. “No. We’ve been running a long time, Martha. You’re doing just fine. If you were out of shape, you’d have thrown up by now.”

 

Up ahead, Toran came to a stop and waited for them to catch up. When they had, Martha and the Doctor both bent over double, hands resting on their knees as they panted.

 

“The house is right here,” Toran said, pointing to a dilapidated building. “We can rest here for tonight and then a group of us will help you get to your ship.”

 

“Fantastic,” the Doctor wheezed and stood up straight. “Ready to go inside, Martha?” He frowned in worry when she didn’t respond and crossed to her side. “Martha?”

 

She threw up on his shoes.

~*~

After Toran gave the secret knock, they were let into the house. The interior, though shabby, was nowhere near as bad as the exterior. A group of Raxicoricofallapatorians were gathered in one of the rooms around a pair sitting down and playing a game that looked a lot like chess.

 

“We live here away from society and try to fight Parliament when we can,” Toran explained, giving them the tour. “Well. Not _literally_ fight. We’re strictly pacifists and organize demonstrations and mail out flyers.” He opened a door, revealing what looked like the toilet. There was a shower head stuck into the wall and a large commode off to the side and that was it. “Ah, here we are. We should clean up after all that rolling in rubbish.”

 

Martha and the Doctor stayed back as Toran turned on the shower head, which in proportion to his body was quite low, and let the water fall into his claws which he then wiped all over his body and then shut the water off. 

 

“No soap?” Martha asked, thinking that couldn’t be it for hygiene.

 

Toran blinked in surprise. “The soap is in the water.”

 

“You drink soap water?” Martha demanded.

 

“No.” Toran shook his head. “There are two different water lines: bathing water and drinking water. The bathing water already includes soap. It’s much better than having to buy soap whenever you run out.” He sighed and shook himself. “There. All clean. The water is yours.”

 

The Doctor glanced at the shower head. “Er, do you suppose we could get some towels?”

 

“Towels? Oh, to dry your bodies?” Toran sounded doubtful. “I suppose we have dish towels you can use. Hold on a moment.” He went back out into the house, leaving them alone.

 

“This is all a bit Spartan isn’t it?” Martha said, waving her hand.

 

“I think Spartans had a better system,” the Doctor mused. “That was a short shower. They’ll expect the same from us.”

 

“Who should go first?” Martha asked. “I don’t mind waiting if you go.”

 

“I don’t mind if you go,” the Doctor replied.

 

Toran arrived just then with a ridiculous amount of towels in his arm. “Actually, you’ll both have to go. I was just told that our daily allotment of soap water is almost out. Here, I’ve gotten you towels. I wasn’t sure which ones you would like so I brought them all for you to choose from. Safine is setting up beds for you so you can rest when you’re done.” 

 

As Toran left, Martha didn’t think she’d absorbed anything after the news that she and the Doctor would have to shower together. Slack-jawed she looked over at the Doctor to see how he was taking it.

 

“White towels seem best, don’t they? That way you can tell if they’re clean or not.” He lifted up a stained towel. “This one I’m guessing is not.” He tossed it aside and continued to sort.

 

“Are we actually going to shower together?” Martha asked, not believing that she was the only one having a difficult time absorbing this.

 

He glanced up at her. “If we want one, it looks like we’re going to have to.” He settled on a yellow towel and set it aside before standing up and shrugging off his jacket. 

 

“But… isn’t that…?”

 

“Isn’t it what?” He tugged off his sweater and his undershirt and then she was staring at his chest. Doctor chest. And, goodness me, there he was undoing his trousers.

 

“Surreal?” she said weakly, unable to look away.

 

The Doctor looked up from peeling off his socks and kicking off his boots. “Well, catch up. I don’t want to stand around cold and starkers waiting for you.”

 

For some reason that made her insides twist. The Doctor wanted her to get naked. To take a shower, Martha. To _shower_ , not because he wants to _see_ you. It’s all about context. But still, her hands shook as she took off her jacket and slipped off her own shoes and socks. 

 

Seeing that she was following suit, the Doctor continued to undress and Martha had to control her breathing so she didn’t faint. Rapidly de-clothing Doctor. Right here in front of her. All alone. And he hadn’t mentioned Rose _once_. It was like all of the dreams she’d been having since traveling regularly on the TARDIS.

 

Soon she was down to her underwear and she considered showering in them just for a bit of modesty. But when she looked at the Doctor again, he’d shed his underwear and stood before her nude. Gloriously nude. Her gaze traveled downward before she could tell it not to.

 

“Am I missing any bits?” the Doctor asked after a long moment of silence.

 

“None that I can see,” Martha murmured in a low tone. She looked back up into his eyes and he was staring at her, warmly.

 

“I won’t look if you don’t want me to,” he said, gently. 

 

It was a kind offer. Realizing she was in her bra and pants in front of him was awkward enough and she almost took him up on it.

 

“I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” And she stripped off her black bra and matching little black pants.

 

The Doctor’s face remained carefully blank but he looked at her a second longer than could be considered polite. “Right. Let’s turn this soap water on and get clean.”

 

They both stood under the shower head and the Doctor switched the water on. Glorious, warm water sprayed down on them and Martha threw her head back and moaned. _Clean_. Oh clean was such a magnificent feeling. She rubbed the soapy water into her skin and hair, momentarily distracted from the now wet as well as naked Doctor standing beside her.

 

For five minutes she was able to enjoy herself before the water abruptly cut off.

 

“Oh!” she exclaimed and blinked up at the showerhead. “Well. How are we supposed to rinse off then after all that soap?”

 

The Doctor chuckled. “Somehow I don’t think they worry about that here.” He turned and went back to the stack of towels, picking up his preferred yellow one and rubbing at his head to get his close-cropped hair dry.

 

Martha followed and sifted through the pile, wishing she’d followed his example earlier by picking out a towel ahead of time. Naked, wet, and shivering was no fun. She finally decided on a purple towel and patted herself dry.

 

“I don’t really feel like putting those back on again,” she said, nodding at their pile of discarded clothes.

 

“So let’s not,” the Doctor said, wrapping the towel around his waist.

 

Martha’s eyes widened. “What?”

 

“Haven’t you ever slept in the nude? I do it all the time.”

 

“You _do_?” Somehow, she’d always pictured the Doctor in striped pajamas, fuzzy slippers, and a proper dressing gown. Possibly a nightcap. 

 

He grinned. “Wouldn’t expect it, would you?” He nodded at their clothes. “Let’s hang these up somewhere. They won’t smell any better tomorrow but once we’re in the TARDIS we can change.”

 

“I don’t have anything to wear on the TARDIS,” Martha reminded him.

 

“I’m sure we could find you something,” he said, not offering her something that belonged to Rose. It was like he knew that Rose was a sore spot for her and he’d avoided saying it to save her some grief. 

 

Warmth flooded her chest and she stepped forward impulsively and kissed the corner of his mouth. She drew back and gazed up at his stunned face through her eyelashes.

 

“What was that for?” he finally managed to ask.

 

“For being kind,” she whispered.

 

A grin spread across his face. “I should make a habit of it, then.”

 

“I don’t think you could handle the consequences,” she teased.

 

“Bet I could,” he said back and started for the door.

 

“Couldn’t.”

 

“I could!”

 

“Not.”

 

“Oi!”

 

Giggling, she followed him out of the room and switched off the light.

~*`

Safine, who turned out to be Toran’s wife, had made little beds for them on the floor in one of the seldom-used rooms. Stacks of boxes had been pushed against the walls to make space and there was just enough for them to squeeze in, drop their towels, and scurry under their blankets.

 

“We’ll wake you early so we can eat before we leave,” Toran said. “Goodnight, my new friends.”

 

“Goodnight, Toran,” the Doctor said.

 

“Goodnight,” Martha echoed.

 

Toran closed the door, leaving them in darkness.

 

“Doctor?” Martha whispered.

 

“Yes?”

 

“What’s the food like here?”

 

“Not great but we’ll be hungry enough not to care.”

 

“Oh.” She shifted and tried to find a position on the lumpy mattress that was slightly comfortable. “Do you really sleep in the nude?”

 

“I do.” He sounded amused, which she took as a good sign that asking questions would be all right.

 

“Does anyone else know that?” 

 

“Very few,” he answered.

 

“Is… does she-”

 

“Rose isn’t one of them.”

 

“Oh.” Martha felt herself blush, ashamed of herself for being jealous of someone she’d never even met and had no real reason to dislike, besides that she’d once been a good friend to this man she admired so much. 

 

“We should sleep. When Toran said early he meant early.” She heard the sheets rustle as the Doctor turned onto his side.

 

“Can I ask just one more thing?” She gathered all of her courage together as he sighed.

 

“Just one more.”

 

“Do you like me?”

 

She heard him roll back to face her in the darkness. “What kind of a question is that?”

 

“The kind that requires an answer?” she said, uncertainly.

 

“Of course I like you! I don’t travel with anyone I don’t like! Well, there’s been a few exceptions but other than that, no, I don’t travel with anyone I dislike and I happen to like _you_ , Martha Jones. You’re clever and funny and beautiful…”

 

She grinned to herself. “Oh, if I had a recording of that, I’d play it back every day.”

 

“You don’t need to. I’m going to remind you of all of that,” he said firmly.

 

“If you remember,” she muttered.

 

“I’ll remember. And I’ll remind you.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“I promise.”

 

“I’m holding you to that, mister.”

 

“I wouldn’t expect any less from you.”

 

Smiling, Martha fell silent and closed her eyes, ready for sleep and maybe some pleasant dreams starring a certain someone.


	6. Chapter 6

Toran hadn’t been joking when he said he’d wake them early. The sun wasn’t even out when Martha was ripped out of a fabulous dream starring this new Doctor, raspberries, and cream by Toran calling to them and tossing their still smelly clothes on them.

 

“Ugh,” the Doctor groaned, sitting up and shaking out his jumper. “I don’t think there’s enough room for us to both change in here. I’ll go out in the hall.”

 

“Thank you,” Martha said, suddenly embarrassed by her frank questions from the night before.

 

He gave her a warm smile of understanding then stood up, wrapped up in a blanket, and left her to dress alone.

~*~

“You said I would be too hungry to care,” Martha whispered as Safine dished out bowls of some foul smelling substance that could have been oatmeal gone wrong or bangers and mash that had been left to sit in the sun for thirty years.

 

The Doctor didn’t look any more impressed than she was. “I can be wrong once in awhile, can’t I?” When Safine offered him a bowl, he politely shook his head with a smile. “I never eat in the morning, thank you.”

 

“Neither do I,” Martha said quickly and Safine shrugged, handing the bowl to the next Raxicoricofallapatorean. 

 

All around them, their new friends were eating breakfast while writing political slogans on large banners. Toran had explained to them that he and his group were peaceful protesters, a bit like hippies, who regularly protested outside Parliament for release of political prisoners, or in response to an unfair tax law that was passed, and to end a fruitless war currently being waged on another planet.

 

“Do you know where my ship is?” the Doctor asked Toran, who was heartily enjoying his breakfast. Martha found that she had to look away because her stomach cramped in complaint watching him messily eat the unappetizing food.

 

“Yes, my mate Blovan told me,” Toran said among slurps and chewing. “It’s right where we’re headed today for our demonstration. I was thinking that you two could travel in the middle of the group where you could be hidden quite easily. Does that sound all right?”

 

“Perfect,” the Doctor answered.

 

“You’re not going,” Safine told her husband, firmly. “You just escaped from prison and they’ll be looking for you.”

 

“I’m the leader; I can’t not go!” Toran exclaimed.

 

“Of course not,” the Doctor agreed. “That would be a double negative.” Martha elbowed him, rolling her eyes.

 

“You’re not going and I mean it,” Safine said firmly. “Say goodbye to your friends now and I’ll look after them on the way to their ship.”

 

Toran grumbled but bowed his head to the Doctor and Martha. “It was a pleasure knowing the two of you. Thank you for trusting me and helping me escape, Doctor.”

 

“It was an honor,” the Doctor said, bowing his head back. 

 

Martha smiled up at their friend they hadn’t known for very long but had become attached to quite quickly. “I’ll miss you, big fellow,” she said, then stepped forward and gave him a big hug. He clumsily patted her back, clearly unused to hugs.

 

When they parted, Toran said, “Well, I’d best look after the sign painting. Can’t have any mistakes or no one will take us seriously. Goodbye and good luck, my friends.”

 

“Goodbye, Toran.” They watched him cross the room and then shared a sad smile between the two of them.

 

“I hope everything works out for him,” Martha said. “I’d hate for him to end up back in that prison.”

 

“Oh, he does,” the Doctor said casually. Off of Martha’s stunned expression he added, “He’ll be the most famous, beloved political prisoner of all time. His example will bring about social and political change and years later when he’s released, he’ll be given a new Parliamentary post that will change how others view Raxicoricofallapatorius. It’ll be this planet’s golden age.” Giving Martha a warm grin and a wink, he went to take a look at some of the signs himself.

~*~

“FREE _DOM_!!! FREE _DOM_!!!”

 

Traveling in the middle of a pack of protesting Raxicoricofallapatoreans was making Martha’s ears ring worse than when she’d attended a Scissor Sisters concert with Tish a few months back. She and the Doctor didn’t speak as they walked quickly to keep up with the longer strides of their companions, which was probably for the best since they wouldn’t be able to hear each other anyway.

 

The Doctor started to hop up and down as he walked, trying to see over the others’ shoulders for a glimpse of the TARDIS. Finally, he stopped and grinned at her, pointing. With a sigh, she started to hop herself and spotted the TARDIS across the courtyard. It was quite a ways away and she couldn’t imagine how they would get over there without being spotted.

 

Grinning, The Doctor grabbed her hand and she knew what was going to happen before it did. “ _Trust me_ ,” he mouthed to her and tugged her through the crowd and out of their safety.

 

“RUN!” With only that bit of warning, The Doctor darted forward leaving Martha with no choice but to follow along or have her arm popped out of its socket. They made it halfway when they were spotted.

 

“ _Off-worlders_!”

 

“It’s the escaped prisoners!!”

 

They both slammed into the closed doors of the TARDIS and Martha spun breathlessly around to see a pack of Raxicoricofallapatoreans running at them. The protesters had joined the chase, roaring and beating the police with their signs.

 

Thankfully, the Doctor had had the key in hand before making a run for it and they made it safely inside before they could be caught. Angry fists pounded on the doors and they stood there panting, trying to get their breath back.

 

“So. That was a grand adventure, wasn’t it?”

 

Martha had to smile. “Yes. It’s comforting to see things never change.”

 

The Doctor grinned and went to the TARDIS controls, flipping dials here and there. Martha watched him, her heart sinking. This was it, then. He’d be sending her home and she’d be left to wonder if her Doctor would remember or care to retrieve her.

 

Martha cleared her throat and tried to sound upbeat. “So, I suppose-”

 

The Doctor looked up. “Breakfast?”

 

“What?”

 

“Breakfast: The most important meal of the day.” He flipped a few more switches and beamed at her. “Let’s go to Epsilon 17; they have the best raspberries and cream.”

 

_Raspberries and cream_. Her face heated up, remembering her dream from last night. “All right,” she agreed. “That sounds healthy.”

 

“Speaking of healthy,” The Doctor said, and plucked at his jumper, “I think what we’re wearing could be labeled as hazardous. We need a bit of a wash and a change.” He started off and called over his shoulder, “Red’s your color, yeah?”

 

Martha had to grin as she followed him. “So I’ve been told.”

 

“Well, come on then. I’ll supervise your fashion choices to make sure you don’t outshine me.”

 

They both had to laugh.


	7. Chapter 7

Martha spun once more, making her red peasant skirt flare out around her. “This is so beautiful! Where did you get it?”

 

The Doctor stood near a rack of jackets, arms folded and smiling as he watched her. “It was an impulse buy. I took it home and stuffed it in the back there when I found out it clashed with my eyes.”

 

She laughed and shook her head. “Fine, keep your secrets. I like this one. And if raspberries fall on it, the stain won’t show.” Inspecting herself in the mirror, Martha beamed at her reflection, dressed in the skirt and a white blouse with flowing sleeves. She’d have to roll those up during breakfast so they wouldn’t drag in the cream but it had been too lovely to pass up.

 

“Better pick out a jacket as well,” the Doctor said, indicating the rack behind him. “Epsilon 17 is a bit chilly in the morning.”

 

Before breakfast, the Doctor was going to take their leather coats in to the cleaners. The Doctor seemed lost now without his coat, standing there in just a sweater with a peacoat folded over one of his arms. Martha felt the same way; she loved her red leather coat.

 

“All right then, if I must.” She went to the rack and started going through various jackets. “But I feel disloyal just so you know.”

 

“As you should,” the Doctor agreed with a nod.

 

Martha sent him a little grin and kept looking through the rack. It felt nice to tease him. Tish always accused Martha of being too serious but she was finding out that with prolonged contact with this Doctor, she was becoming sillier by the moment. It wasn’t exactly a bad thing, just different. She paused when she came across a long, brown coat and her smile faded as she looked at it.

 

“Oh, I like that one,” the Doctor said. “Janis Joplin gave me that coat.”

 

Wordlessly, Martha removed it from the rack and stared at it. Her Doctor had been wearing this when she’d last seen him. It had only been a day but it felt like years ago.

 

“So are you choosing that one, then?” the Doctor asked.

 

Martha was shaken out of her reverie and she blinked a few times. She looked up to see him looking at her expectantly and opened her mouth to say “no.” Instead she blurted out, “Yes, I like it too.” She quickly slipped it on and it felt as if her Doctor had just slid his arm around her shoulders. The thought made her shiver.

 

“About time. I thought you were never going to pick something.” The Doctor slid on the peacoat and grabbed her hand. “I’m starving.”

 

The bit of melancholy the coat had given her melted away when his big, warm hand enveloped hers. Hopefully the walk to the restaurant would take hours.

~*~

“Bof off de _roff_ off!”

 

The Doctor smiled slightly. “Try that again with less raspberry?”

 

Chastened, Martha swallowed her mouthful of raspberries and cream. “This is delicious!”

 

“I know,” he agreed, dipping his spoon into his bowl once more. “A good mark of an advanced society is fantastic raspberries.”

 

Martha beamed at him and took another bite, looking up eagerly as the waiter approached with their waffles. 

 

“We’d also like some hot chocolate, please,” the Doctor said and the waiter nodded.

 

A little thought worried at the back of Martha’s mind and she set her spoon down. “Doctor, you never have any money. How are we going to pay for this?” She kept her voice down and sent a nervous look the waiter’s way but he appeared not to have heard as he stood back, hands folded neatly in front of him.

 

“What did I tell you before we walked through that door?” the Doctor asked, sounding amused. “I told you we could get a big breakfast here for a song.”

 

“Yes, but that doesn’t-”

 

The Doctor looked at the waiter. “Could we settle our bill now, please? The lady doesn’t believe me when I tell her how the transaction occurs.”

 

“Of course, sir.” From the waiter’s head sprouted two antennae which made Martha startle backward.

 

“Join in if you know the words,” the Doctor told her and then started to sing lustily, “I’d like to be under the sea in an octopus’s garden in the shade! He’d let us in, knows where we’ve been, in his octopus’s garden in the shade!”

 

Martha laughed. Abbey Road had been her father’s favorite album when she was a child and she and Theo liked this song the best. She joined in gleefully, knowing her singing was rubbish but so was his and it was all in good fun, right?

 

“I’d ask my friends to come and see an octopus’s garden with me! I’d like to be under the sea in an octopus’s garden in the shade!”

 

They made it through the whole song, Martha correcting the Doctor when he stumbled over a lyric here and there. When it was finished, the Epsilonians applauded politely and the waiter’s antennae retracted back into his head.

 

“That will be most sufficient. Thank you.” As he walked away, Martha looked at the Doctor, eyes wide and mouth open.

 

“That’s not an expression here? You really pay by song?”

 

“It’s where the expression came from,” the Doctor said and cut into his waffles. “I told myself when we were jumpin’ off that prison that if I survived, one of the first things I’d do is eat a stack of waffles.”

 

“I told myself to go on a date,” Martha replied without thinking. Her brain screamed in shock and she looked at the Doctor quickly, waiting for him to hastily change the subject as he always seemed to do whenever she made some remark about the two of them.

 

The Doctor was looking at her warmly, to her surprise. _Right, this one’s different. A bit the same, yet different._. “Well, it looks like we both got our wish, then.”

 

“Oh, this isn’t a date,” Martha said, flustered.

 

“Isn’t it?” He pointed at her plate with his fork. “I bought you a meal, haven’t I? Held the door open for you?”

 

“Yes, but afterwards you aren’t going to take me back to my flat and try for a bit of kiss and fumble,” she said, trying to be funny.

 

The Doctor’s eyes twinkled. “The date isn’t over yet.”

 

Martha stared at him, unsure of how to respond and luckily didn’t have to because the restaurant fell silent. Curious, Martha looked behind her to see a regal woman all in white carrying a creature that looked like a cross between a parrot and poodle stroll in next to two burly men.

 

“Who’s that?” Martha whispered.

 

The Doctor didn’t answer but waved their waiter over. “Who’s that woman, mate?”

 

“Why, that’s Queen Elgaba III. She was elected High Consulate just last month. I’m astonished you haven’t heard of her sir; she’s caused quite the controversy since she’s taken office.”

 

“What’s she done then?” the Doctor asked.

 

“She wants Espsilon 17 to transer to a tangible currency. You see, song is very difficult to trade with on a universal market scale. She has our home’s best interest at heart.”

 

“Let me guess: you voted for her?”

 

“I did.”

 

Martha looked back at the woman who appeared to be no older than Martha herself. She was seated at a corner table and set the parrot/poodle creature next to her glass of water. Though Martha knew that judging by appearances wasn’t the wisest thing to do, she felt like the woman really _did_ have the planet’s best interest at heart. Her smile was warm as she gave her order to the waiter and she tenderly stroked her pet’s head.

 

“Well this is a right bother,” the Doctor muttered and Martha turned back to the table to see him frowning as he poked at his waffles.

 

“What is?”

 

“No more songs. I get all my sonic screwdrivers here.”

 

Martha rolled her eyes. “Yes. It’s a shame that an entire planet wanting to expand its economy inconveniences you.”

 

“Oi, don’t get cheeky!” Despite his words, he smiled.

 

They continued on with their meal, speaking every so often to remark on the view outside the window - the sun had just popped out of the clouds - or on one of their fellow patrons when a shriek shattered their comfortable web.

 

It was the High Consulate and she was beside herself, wringing her hands. “Easafor! Oh, what’s become of Easafor? He was right here!”

 

One of the burly men stood and scanned the restaurant, his antennae sprouting up out of his head.

 

“Does she mean that weird little dog with feathers?” Martha asked the Doctor.

 

“A pelner. Yes.” The Doctor peered under the table and said to one of the guards passing by, “Not here, mate.”

 

Other diners looked under their tables to help but no one saw where the little pelner had disappeared to. The High Consulate continued to cry but she didn’t expect everyone to do the looking for her; she got up and searched the place herself.

 

The Doctor slapped his napkin down on the table with a sigh. “Well, we’d best go pick up our jackets before the currency changes. Come on, Martha.”

 

Martha looked back at the High Consulate and frowned. “I think we should stay and look.”

 

“It’s a small restaurant, I’m sure she’ll find it,” the Doctor said dismissively. “Pelners wander away all the time. It’s an attention ploy; once they’re found again they’re showered with love and affection from their owners. I’ve seen it before. Let’s go.”

 

Sighing, Martha stood as well. “Fine. But I feel badly about this.”

 

“And you’re a lovely person for it as well. Let’s go.” They headed for the door, slipping on their coats along the way when one of the guards stepped in front of them, putting a hand on the Doctor’s chest to stop him.

 

“Where do you think you two are going?” he grunted.

 

“Just to the cleaners. We have very special leather waiting for us there so if you don’t mind…?”

 

The guard pushed the Doctor back roughly, apparently minding. “You’re not going anywhere until the High Consulate finds her pelner. Either you sit back down or you help look. No one’s leavin’ til we find it.”

 

“All right, we’ll help.” The Doctor turned away and murmured to Martha, “There, see, you get your wish after all.”

 

“Good,” Martha said. “If this is a date, then I should get to do as I please.” She hurried away to help in the search so quickly that she missed the pleased grin on his face.


	8. Chapter 8

The entire restaurant had been searching for the missing pelner for about an hour and nerves were starting to fray. Most of the patrons had had sympathy for the High Consulate but now that everyone was detained from going on with the rest of their day, and the restaurant wasn’t able to welcome in new customers they were all giving her furtive dirty looks.

 

Martha however, noticed that the High Consulate was still crying despondently and went to her, kneeling down by her chair. “Hey, now. Don’t cry, High Consulate. We’re all searching as hard as we can.”

 

“Oh, he’s gone,” the High Consulate moaned, clutching her heart. “He’s not in this place anymore, I can feel it.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Martha said softly and patted the High Consulate’s knee. “When I was ten, I had a puppy named Blinkers. I loved him so much, he used to beg for a biscuit on his back legs and sleep with me at night. But one day, mum let him run outside while she was taking my sister Tish to a piano lesson and we never saw him again. It broke my heart at the time but the pain didn’t last forever.”

 

The High Consulate lifted her pale blonde head and stared at Martha incredulously. “You speak to me of a _pet_? Easafor was _not_ a pet! He was everything to me!”

 

Taken aback, Martha moved her hand. “I’m not from here; I’ve never heard of pelners until today. You’ll have to excuse my ignorance.”

 

Relaxing, the High Consulate sighed. “I’m sorry, I know you’re only trying to help. But on this planet, pelners are terribly important.”

 

“What do they do?” Martha asked.

 

“No one knows much about them in the wild,” the High Consulate said, taking out a handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes. “They just appear one day and you’re chosen.”

 

“Chosen?” Martha tilted her head. “For what?”

 

“For greatness.” The High Consulate looked at Martha solemnly. “A pelner shapes the rest of your life. Easafor came to me when I was six and after monitoring his behavior with other pelners, it was discovered that I was to be a leader. He has made me everything that I am today. Without him, I don‘t know what I‘ll do next.”

 

“So everyone in power on this planet has a pelner?” Martha asked, thinking.

 

“Not everyone but most. Why do you ask?”

 

“Because I don’t think your pelner disappearing now is an accident.”

 

As if confirming her suspicions, one of the security guards walked up to them, looking grim. “High Consulate, we’ve just gotten word from the Chancellor. His pelner has disappeared as well.”

 

The Doctor approached their group, frowning. “So this isn’t an isolated incident.”

 

From across the room, the other guard called over, “Senator Cyllix has just reported her pelner missing.”

 

“There’s no point in us staying here anymore,” the first guard said disgustedly. “We won’t be finding your pelner here, High Consulate. Something’s amiss.”

 

The High Consulate stood, lifting her chin bravely. “Then we must call a meeting of the Order. Spread the word.” She turned to Martha and her expression softened. “Would you come with me, young maiden? I’ve grown to like you.”

 

“Of course, High Consulate,” Martha said gently. “And my name’s Martha. Martha Jones.”

 

“You may call me Elgaba.” She smiled and glanced dismissively at the Doctor. “Your companion can come if he wishes.”

 

The Doctor looked annoyed at this and Martha grinned as they trailed after the High Consulate and her guards.

~*~

Martha had never seen so many ostentatious looking people in her life. She thought that maybe the other pelner-owners would look like Queen Elgaba, serene and spotless all in white. Instead, she was finding that every one had modeled themselves after a different pelner, dressed in different colors, different hair styles, and jewelry.

 

The people were all gathered in Elgaba’s dining hall, at a long table. Martha was seated at Elgaba’s right hand, the Doctor beside Martha looking around at the people in interest. Everyone was murmuring worriedly, once in awhile casting angry looks at the High Consulate.

 

“I call this meeting to order,” Elgaba announced calmly.

 

A woman all in red with a big red feather sticking out of her hair threw her gloved hands up dramatically. “Good luck with that, child! We’re all at our wits’ end! And we all know you are solely to blame!”

 

“Me?!” Elgaba’s jaw dropped but she quickly regained her poise. “That is a very serious accusation, Madame Vanoosh. I urge you to reconsider before making such an allegation again.”

 

“Please! You assume office and then a week after you announce you’re eliminating our musical monetary system, all the pelners disappear? Hardly a coincidence!” Madame Vanoosh was clearly overwhelmed by recent events and whipped out a red paper fan, airing her flushed face as she clucked soothingly to herself.

 

Elgaba frowned. “I hate to think that I’ve brought this on us, but I honestly believe that in order for Epsilon 17 to take part in our universal-”

 

“Oh, stop it,” a man all in black with an Errol Flynn mustache snapped. “Spare us your campaign speech; you’ve won the election.”

 

“Don’t you speak to her that way!” a woman in green cried out. “You’re just jealous that she won and you didn’t!”

 

“I didn’t run and _I’m_ sick of hearing her party rhetoric!” a woman in yellow shouted back.

 

“Won’t someone think of the pelners?!” Madame Vanoosh wailed.

 

The Doctor held up his sonic screwdriver and a high pitched whining rang through the room, making everyone wince and clap their hands over their ears. He lowered the screwdriver and stared around the table at everyone. “All right, now we’ve gotten whinging out of our systems, who would be the most likely to have your pelners?”

 

No one spoke up right away and the man in black raised a cautious hand. “There are a number of groups who oppose our monetary switch. They wouldn’t hesitate to take our pelners.”

 

“Right.” The Doctor nodded. “Do any of them have the money, resources, and planning ability to pull off something like this?”

 

The man thought about it and his face fell, shaking his head in defeat.

 

“Well, that was one theory,” the Doctor said kindly then looked around the table. “Let’s hear another.” No one spoke up and the Doctor looked as if he’d been expecting as much. “I’m sorry you’ve lost your pelners. I truly am. But to get through this, we need everyone to remain calm. That means no more tantrums and no more accusations. As far as I can see, the High Consulate has done well by all of you. She didn’t have to invite any of you here today but she has.”

 

“You may call me Elgaba as well,” the High Consulate murmured. The Doctor looked over at her and the two shared a warm smile. Something green and uncomfortably familiar made Martha duck her head.

 

“What do you propose we do, then?” the man in black asked, sounding lost. The others looked as tragic as he did, looking to the Doctor as if they were children needing to be told what to do every step of the way.

 

“Go home,” he said, firmly. “Live your lives as you would any other day. My _companion_ and I,” he glanced at Martha, noticing her bristle, “will investigate this matter thoroughly.”

 

The gathered group of powerful people were clearly unused to being ordered around. They talked amongst themselves for nearly fifteen minutes before getting up and milling out of the room. The High Consulate stayed in her seat, watching them go and once they were gone, she turned to face the Doctor, pretty face flushed.

 

“You are a gifted leader, Doctor,” Elgaba said. “What is your pelner like?”

 

“I haven’t got one,” the Doctor said with a shrug.

 

Elgaba’s jaw dropped. “But you must!”

 

“No, I don’t.” The Doctor leaned toward her, eyes intent. “You don’t need a pelner or anything else to have confidence in yourself and your abilities.”

 

“I’ve never heard of such a thing before,” Elgaba murmured. “Yet when I see you, both of you,” she quickly added, seeming to sense Martha’s disengagement from the conversation, “I know your words to be true.”

 

“’Course they are.” He and Elgaba stared at each other for a long moment and then he stood up. “Well, how about a little research?”

 

Martha and Elgaba frowned at him.

 

“On pelners. We have to know everything there is to know about them if we’re going to find out where they’ve all gone.”

 

Elgaba stood as well, looking uncertain. “I have every book ever written on them, but I’m afraid there aren’t many.”

 

“Well, it’s a start.” The Doctor looked down at Martha. “Are you coming along or are you going to keep the chairs company?”

 

Martha gave him a look and stood up. “I’m curious myself.”

 

“The library’s this way,” Elgaba said and walked ahead of them, discreetly giving them privacy.

 

“What’s got you so sulky?” the Doctor asked.

 

“I’m not sulky.”

 

“You are, too. You barely said a word during the meeting.”

 

“I didn’t have anything to contribute.”

 

“Not even at the end?

 

Martha didn’t answer.

 

They continued on in silence before the Doctor said casually, “Interesting woman, the High Consulate.” He glanced over at Martha as she still didn’t speak. “Could never bring her on the TARDIS, though.”

 

That caught her attention. “Really?”

 

“No. I think one trip would wrinkle her.” His grin was so daft that Martha giggled, pushing his arm. 

 

Her jealousy forgotten, they continued onward in peace.

~*~

The Doctor flipped through the pages of one book and dropped it. “Myth.” He picked up another, flipping the pages the same way. “Legend.” _Thhhhhhffff_ “Outright falsehood.” _Thud_.

 

“You’re not even reading those!” Martha exclaimed as Elgaba stooped and picked up her books, clutching them to her chest and clucking over their mistreatment.

 

“I am so,” the Doctor said, defensively, flipping through another book. “ _Of Pelners_ , page seventy-five. ‘And Lord Momo spake unto the pelners, “To inspire is godly work and godly work is of inspiration.” And the pelners henceforth dwelt in the land of Potential and all was good.’”

 

Martha had taken the appropriate book from Elgaba and found the correct page. “And all was ‘well.’”

 

He shrugged and dropped his book. “I speed read, not remember everything photographically. Elgaba, these books are useless.”

 

“These books have been in my family for generations,” the High Consulate said, stiffly. “I’d thank you to treat them with more care, sir.”

 

The Doctor crossed his arms. “What can you tell me about them that’s useful? Something that isn’t steeped in myth that’s maybe a tenth of a percentage true on a good day.”

 

“I don’t understand the question.” Elgaba started shelving her books and Martha helped, giving the Doctor a _Please don’t antagonize her any more_ look.

 

“What’s a typical day like?” he asked.

 

Elgaba’s annoyed expression melted into one of warm reflection. “We get up at six of the clock every morning and Easafor has his bowl of water. Then we go and have breakfast, though pelners don’t need any nourishment other than water. Afterward, we return here where I go over the business of the day and then address the senate if needs be. Around noon, Easafor is exhausted and sluggish, so I sing to him and he perks right up. Then if the weather permits, we take a walk around the park and see a puppet show if the mummers are-”

 

“ _That’s it_!” The Doctor’s face lit up and he grabbed Martha’s hand pulling her to the door. “It’s been staring us in the face all this time!”

 

“What has?!” Martha exclaimed.

 

He picked her up, making her squeal, and spun her around, dropping her back to her feet and kissing her forehead soundly. “Oh, I’ve been so stupid! It should’ve been the first place I looked.”

 

“What are you-?”

 

“Come on!” Grabbing her hand again, they continued running down the hall before he abruptly skidded to a halt. “Wait.” He backtracked to the library where Elgaba still stood, stunned by his outburst. “Elgaba?”

 

“Yes?”

 

He beamed at her. “Where’s the nearest bank?”


	9. Chapter 9

“What, do you suddenly need to make a withdrawal?” Martha demanded as they got into Elgaba’s hover limo. “Pop or opera?”

 

“They’re both fantastic depending on the moment,” the Doctor said lightly. “But no, I’m not making any withdrawals.”

 

Elgaba finished giving her driver directions and turned to face the Doctor, looking confused. “Then why are we going to the bank, Doctor? What do you expect to find there?”

 

“The pelners,” the Doctor said. He stared back at the women’s shocked expressions, nonplussed. “They live off song, you know.”

 

“They… no, they only need water.” Elgaba shook her head. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Doctor.”

 

“Am I? You said Easafor was sluggish until you sang to him. Thank about it: how many of your mates sing to their pelners?”

 

“Well,” Elgaba said slowly, thinking. “All of them. But how does that-”

 

“Oh, it’s clever isn’t it? A race of song eaters who need a place to stay settle on a planet of children who revere them. They make their feeding so subtle that no one even realizes what they live off of.” The Doctor shook his head, looking impressed.

 

Martha glanced at Elgaba and frowned worriedly as the High Consulate’s face fell. Sometimes the Doctor was so excited by his deductions that he didn’t realize right away that some revelations might hurt especially sensitive people. Martha gently took Elgaba’s hand.

 

“They don’t really loves us?” she asked Martha, voice breaking. “All this time they were just using us?”

 

Her words pulled the Doctor back into the moment and his expression shifted from contemplative to compassionate. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Why now?” Elgaba looked lost. “The songs have been in the bank all this time. Why haven’t they gotten to them before now?”

 

“Because there won’t be songs left soon,” Martha said, gently. “You’re changing your currency.”

 

“But-! I’ll sing when he wants it! That won’t change.”

 

“It wouldn’t be enough,” the Doctor said. “they absorb songs during your everyday transactions, from the supply you have in your home. You’d have to sing several times a day to supply what he needs.”

 

“I’ll do it!”

 

The Doctor smiled kindly. “You have a planet to run, High Consulate.”

 

Elgaba sniffled. “So are they just going to eat and eat all that’s in the bank until there’s nothing left?”

 

“No.” The Doctor looked serious and Martha had a bad feeling. “They’re gathering just enough to make a long journey.”

~*~

The limo had to progress carefully as they approached the bank because so many people were in the streets, staring at something that Martha couldn’t quite make out. The sound of everyone speaking at once was almost as loud as the protest on Raxacoricofallapatorius.

 

“The High Consulate’s here!” a voice rang out above the others and the crowd started to part to let the limo through. Everyone turned to gape at them and Martha felt so self conscious that she was glad that the windows were tinted.

 

However, they had to get out and people at the back of the crowd turned to watch this new development.

 

“What’s happening?” Elgaba asked a man in a workman’s jumpsuit.

 

“It’s the pelners,” the man said. “They’ve all gathered or somethin’.”

 

“Excuse us,” the Doctor said loudly and started making his way through the crowd. He grabbed Martha’s hand. “Take hold of Elgaba, I’ll get us through to the front.” Martha flailed her arm out and hooked the High Consulate as the Doctor maneuvered his way through the gathered people. At the front of the crowd stood some nervous policemen keeping the crowd away from the bank. “Please, just move on. There’s nothing to see here.”

 

“Those pelners better not touch my songs!” a belligerent man was bellowing. “I’m saving up for a holiday!”

 

“There’s nothing we can do sir, we-” one of the officers stopped when he saw the High Consulate and looked relieved. “Look, the High Consulate’s here. She’ll sort everything out.”

 

The man looked a little less angry as Elgaba nodded to him and with that, the officer held the door open and they ducked inside. All the employees had long since vacated the building and Martha was reminded of stories she’d heard about the Marie Celeste. Bank slips half filled out lay discarded on counters next to pens, chairs were pushed back from desks with cups of coffee still steaming, and a television overhead still cheerfully advertised a brand of children’s cereal.

 

Then she saw the pelners. They were gathered in a large circle in the waiting area, the ropes which kept everyone in a queue pushed carefully against the counter so it was out of the way. The pelners were every color imaginable, no two the same shade. They held their wings out, ruffling their feathers and humming quietly, their eyes closed. In the center stood Elgaba’s pelner, Easafor.

 

“Easafor!” Elgaba called and the Doctor gritted his teeth, grabbing Martha’s arm and taking a step back.

 

The pelners’ eyes opened and Easafor lifted his dog-like muzzle in the air then lowered his head in a respectable bow. “Queen Elgaba,” he greeted her in a startlingly deep voice. He sounded a bit like James Earl Jones and Martha almost laughed at the incongruity.

 

“Y-you can talk?” Elgaba folded her hands in front of her, not knowing what else to do.

 

“I can.” Easafor’s eyes seemed to be smiling. “Forgive us for taking from this bank. We just need enough to get us across the galaxy.”

 

Elgaba shook her head. “Oh, no!” She came closer and lowered herself to her knees. “Please don’t do this. I’ll reverse the decision and we’ll keep trading by songs. I honestly had no idea this is what you ate, or else I never would’ve suggested we switch.”

 

“There’s no turning back now,” Easafor said. “Everyone liked the idea. Your planet needs to thrive and to do this your reach must expand. You have been isolated for long enough.” His eyes smiled again. “If you hadn’t thought of it, someone else would have.”

 

“But…” Elgaba held her arms out. “I don’t know what to do without you.”

 

The pelners shuffled aside and Easafor came forward, allowing her to gather him up into her arms and cuddle him one last time.

 

“You’ll do wonderfully, darling. You’re the best Epsilonian I’ve ever had the pleasure of living with. You’re wise and capable and I know there are only good things ahead for you.” He nuzzled Elgaba with his wet doggy nose and licked at a tear that rolled down her cheek.

 

After another minute, Elgaba finally set him back down and stood up, wiping her eyes. “Aren’t you going to say goodbye to everyone else?”

 

“We have intentions to write,” Easafor said. “Before you came here, that was the plan. We had sneaked in here but if it were not for Abfu-” he leveled a hard stare at an orange pelner who hung his head in shame, “and his loud sneezing, we would have remained unnoticed.” His expression softened. “I’m glad I got to see your face one last time, Elgaba. I shall miss you.”

 

“I miss you already,” Elgaba confessed, pressing her hands to her heart.

 

Easafor fluttered his wings and the humming from all the pelners intensified. “We’re ready to go. Would someone get the door for us?”

 

The Doctor and Martha held the doors open wide and the pelners started flapping their wings, their humming growing even louder. Then, with a colorful blur, they swooped through the door and outside, straight up into the sky. The crowd shouted in awe and then fell into silence as a burst of light signaled that the pelners had exited the atmosphere and were gone.

 

“That was beautiful,” Martha whispered. The Doctor took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

 

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he admitted, tone hushed. “I’m glad you were with me.”

 

“So am I.” She looked up at him and saw he was giving her that warm look of his that made her feel like the only person in the room. “What happens now?”

 

“Well…” The Doctor glanced back at Elgaba who looked a little shell-shocked. “The High Consulate has to tell her people what’s happened. Then get all the currency business squared away.”

 

“Will she be all right?”

 

The Doctor nodded. “Yeah, she’ll be fine. Or she will be once we get her home.” They dropped the doors and went to their friend’s side, wrapping their arms around her shoulders and waist respectively and gently guided her out of the bank.


	10. Chapter 10

Martha slid her red leather jacket on and gave the sleeve an experimental sniff. “Good as new!” She beamed at the Doctor.

 

He grinned back and nodded at the dry cleaner behind the counter. “Keep the change.”

 

As they walked out of the building they found Elgaba waiting for them. She was dressed in her customary white but was experimenting with other colors at Martha’s suggestion and had added a blue suede jacket to her look. 

 

“I wanted to thank the both of you,” the High Consulate said, looking from the Doctor to Martha earnestly. “You’ve been so helpful the last few days.”

 

The Doctor nodded, uncomfortable with thank yous. “It was the least we could do since you were kind enough to offer us a place to stay.”

 

“It was all very interesting,” Martha lied. In truth, she’d been bored out of her skull with all the speeches and meetings and talk of pelners and currency and legislation… Though dangerous, she much preferred Toran’s brand of politics. There was a lot more to experience.

 

“I hope to see you again under better circumstances,” Elgaba said, smiling wistfully. 

 

“That’s the thing; these always seem to be the circumstances when I meet people,” the Doctor said honestly which made Martha smile.

 

Elgaba smiled as well. “All the same, I mean it. Good luck on your journey.” She bowed her head respectfully then walked to her hover limo, followed by two guards that they hadn’t noticed a few seconds ago, they’d been so well hidden.

 

“Well, Martha Jones.” The Doctor took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “No more pit stops. It’s time to take you home.”

 

Tears sprang unexpectedly to her eyes but she smiled through them. “There’s no place like it.”

~*~

With absolutely no more trouble or side trips, Martha and the Doctor arrived in London, England 2008 right outside of Martha’s apartment.

 

“Nice place,” the Doctor commented politely as they made their way inside the building.

 

“I know it’s not as fancy as yours,” Martha said teasingly. “Staying in one spot and as big inside as it is outside.”

 

He laughed and stopped walking when she did. He looked at her expectantly and she indicated the door next to her with her head. “This is me.”

 

“Ah.” He watched her unlock the door and stepped inside when she waved her hand.

 

“Would you like some tea?” Martha asked and immediately felt silly.

 

“Oh, no. I should best be on my way. I’ve left my friends on their own quite long enough.”

 

“Right.” Martha didn’t trust herself to speak, the lump in her throat had already made that one syllable sound impossibly tight.

 

His eyes expressed his worry. “I’ll see you soon, you know.”

 

“I know. But it won’t be the same.” Her face crumbled and she looked away to the curtains, telling herself to calm down.

 

“Hey.” He stepped close and the next thing she knew, she was wrapped up in his arms, face pressed into his chest and his cheek resting on top of her head. They stood like that for a long time and Martha cherished every second. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been held.

 

Finally, when she felt as if too much time had passed, she pulled back to set him free. But his arms stayed locked around her and she looked up at him to tell him it was okay to let go. The look in his eyes stopped her, though. They were so blue and there was so much feeling there; gentleness, caring, admiration. Lost in his eyes, she discovered that she never wanted to be found.

 

She raised her head and lifted up on her tiptoes, tilting her head to the right. She kept staring into his eyes until a millisecond before their lips touched. Though chaste, the kiss made her heart pound so hard she wouldn’t have been surprised if Mrs. Breen next door heard it and pounded on the wall, telling her to keep the noise level down. His lips were so soft and warm that she sighed dreamily like a schoolgirl.

 

But as much as she would have liked it to, it couldn’t last forever and they parted.

 

“I guess it was a date after all,” he said lightly but his expression was serious.

 

“The best I’ve ever been on,” she whispered.

 

A smile slowly spread across his face. “You really are fantastic, Martha Jones. I’ve loved getting to know you.”

 

Martha nodded, unable to speak. Understanding, he kissed her forehead lingeringly and went out the door without prolonging the pain that sliced through her heart for another second.

 

Did she want to watch him leave? Part of her didn’t, but another part wanted to see him just one last time. After a moment of debate, she crossed to the window just in time to see him come out the front door and walk to the TARDIS parked on the sidewalk. With his hand on the door, he paused and looked back at her window, making her startle back guiltily. He smiled and held up a hand in farewell and Martha did the same, biting her lip.

 

Then he was gone.

 

Utterly miserable, Martha put a kettle on for tea, changed her mind, then went to her room where she settled on her bed for a good cry.

~*~

She was wakened by an impatient knocking on her door. Jerking up, she whipped her head around to the clock on her nightstand. She’d only been asleep for half an hour.

 

Maybe he’d come back? Oh don’t be stupid, of course he hasn’t come back. Grumbling, Martha got up and stumbled out of her bedroom. “I’m coming!” That seemed to placate the person on the other end and the knocking stopped.

 

Martha wiped the sleep out of her eyes and opened the door.

 

And there he was.

 

At least, the other “he.”

 

His hair stuck up in front as always as he stood there in his Converse sneakers and pinstriped suit, rocking back on his heels impatiently, hands jammed in his overcoat pockets.

 

“Well!” he greeted her. “I think that was long enough to get changed, don’t you?”

 

Her heart twisted and she had to grip the doorframe to keep from doing… something. She didn’t know what. He was behaving as if nothing had ever happened, as if they had never bonded and they hadn’t kissed and this time it had _meant something_.

 

“Japan?” He raised his eyebrows.

 

“Oh, yes,” Martha mumbled, walking away. “Let me just get my keys.”

 

“Of course. Oh, and Martha?” he said casually.

 

“Yes?” She separated her front door key from the others on the ring and looked up at him.

 

His eyes twinkled. “I still think you’re fantastic.”

THE END


End file.
